Anachronism
by Stapling Pages
Summary: It's never a good idea to erase someone...but then, maybe it is. Pre-slash


Disclaimer: I don't own _Harry Potter_ or _Nabari no Ou_.

Pairing: Tom Riddle/Yoite

Warnings: pre-slash; AU;

Summary: It's never a good idea to erase someone…but then again, maybe it is.

Author's Notes: This reads more like a prologue than anything else, but I _am_ done with it. For now, anyway. Maybe after I finish some of the other pieces I'm working on I'll come back and expand this.

Any feedback or constructive criticisms would be very appreciated.

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><p>A is for <strong>Anachronism <strong>– anything out of its proper historical time

Yoite doesn't remember when he arrived here, at the orphanage; no one else does either. What he does remember is the frightened whispers of the staff, the curious eyes of the other children, and the heavy silence of the other outcast. That silence lasted for a long while. It lasted until he had found Yoite one day with dark bruises and glossy eyes.

The other boy had been furious. Even now, Yoite doesn't understand why.

After that day, Tom had scarcely let him out of his sight. The other boy was sitting on the edge of his bed when he woke up, lingered near him through the day, and watched him from across the room when it was lights out. Some days, Yoite is content with this, other times he wishes it would stop. He's fairly sure Tom knows this.

When Tom turned seven, the two of them are moved into a separate room away from the other children, who had come to fear and hate Yoite as much as they did Tom. The room isn't big enough for two beds and there aren't enough single rooms, so they're forced to share. Everything is shared between them. At first, Tom resented him for the entire situation, and he avoided Yoite as much as he could for nearly three weeks. The younger of the two pretended he didn't notice, but after a while, he broke down.

_Please, I don't want to be alone anymore._

That afternoon, they don't leave their room until dinner. By that time, Tom's shoulder is soaked, and Yoite's eyes are swollen and red. Another boy, Bobby, accused them of being queer then gets them in trouble with the matron for doing unnatural things.

His rabbit is found hanging from the rafters the next morning, dead.

Yoite doesn't ask and Tom doesn't tell. Only one of them is sure that this is a good thing.

During the summer of 1938, a man named Albus Dumbledore arrived with a letter for each of the two. They were Wizards. Yoite watched apathetically as Tom argued with the man about everything. Finally, after fifteen minutes, the old man sighed and handed over a sack of gold each with directions to Diagon Alley. He turned to leave, but paused as though he had just realized something.

"Although we have you down for attending, Yoite, we do not have a surname for you." The professor watched him closely as he blinked.

"I don't have one."

"You will need one, at Hogwarts and later in life," he paused. "Gringotts, our bank, has a service that will inform you of the name of any Wizarding relations might you have. It would be wise to pay a visit to them." Dumbledore summoned a loose sheet of parchment and a quill. While he wrote out a quick note, the two boys glanced at each other.

"What if he doesn't have any?"

"Most Muggle-borns have at least one Wizard, or Squib, ancestor though often times it is a fair number of generations back." The finished note was handed to Yoite, who shoved it into his envelope without looking at it.

"Can't I just use Tom's last name?"

Dumbledore frowned at the indifferent attitude, but answered anyway, "I suppose it would be acceptable…if Mr. Riddle does not mind." Tom simply smiled. "Remember, term begins September 1st." He then left.

Tom waited a few minutes before tossing aside his book and leaning against the younger boy. Hours later, they fell asleep.

The next day, Tom dragged them out of bed at five o'clock. Yoite spent much of the trip to the Leaky Cauldron dozing against the other's shoulder. When they entered the tavern, the barkeeper smiled knowingly at them and led them out the backdoor. Quietly, he explained how to get through the barrier, and then turned to leave. The boys glanced at each other; Yoite laced their fingers together.

"How much would it cost for us to stay here for the rest of summer?" Tom asked.

"Eh, it's eleven Sickles a night for a room. About twenty or so Galleons if ya shared."

They don't stay.

Ollivander's is their first stop; they slipped through the door simultaneously and watched as a red-haired boy tried out wands. His family lingered nearby smiling happily, though the mother would occasionally glance disapprovingly at how close the two orphans were standing. Tom decided to pass the time by glaring at the woman after the second time Yoite flinched. She stopped glancing over soon after. Once the group paid for the boy's wand and left, the shopkeeper turned to them and frowned.

"How odd," he mumbled. "Ah well. Which one of you is to go first?"

They left the shop fifteen Galleons poorer and with two new wands – a yew and phoenix feather for Tom, and a birch and chimera scale for Yoite – in return. Near the end of the day, they finally finish shopping, and have gotten used to the new world they found themselves a part of. Sleep is the only thing on their minds when they return to the orphanage.

The rest of the summer seemed to pass by in a blur. Hours are spent pouring over their textbooks – bought second hand so they would have enough for the Knight Bus's fare – and Tom nicks Mrs. Cole's Latin dictionary in hopes of getting a head start on understanding the theory behind the spells. By the time September 1st rolls around, Tom can perform most of the charms as well as list off a fair amount of the spells they would be learning. Yoite, on the other hand, has the potions and herbology textbooks memorized, and has already started a potions journal. The train ride to Hogwarts is spent flicking through their notes, comparing and adding additional bits that they missed.

Then the sorting happened.

Of the two, Tom is sorted first. The Sorting Hat lingers on Tom's head for a mere minute before pronouncing him a Slytherin; the response is polite disinterested clapping. Yoite is sure that a few of the older students are biting back sneers. Tom, of course, doesn't seem to care at all and sits at the end of the table with an open space on either side.

Tom smiles at him expectantly as his name is called. That smile dwindles away to nothing when Yoite is declared a Hufflepuff.


End file.
